Of Fathers and Suspenders
by lifeluver
Summary: Burt doesn't come back to see Kurt sing Rose's Turn, Artie does.  Good old fashioned friendship fic before the premiere.


"That was way better than Mellencamp," Artie says as the music comes grinding to a halt. Kurt flinches in surprise from his place hunched over himself on the stage floor, but other than that doesn't react to the intrusion. For someone as dramatic as he claimed to be, he was strangely dedicated to covering up his own emotions in the face of others.

Not facing the other boy, Kurt runs a hand through his fringe and gathers himself before turning around, standing tall and haughty once again; all traces of the furious and hurt young man of a few moments ago carefully stored away.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice accusatory but his eyes reading a different story. Not for the first time Artie wishes he was one of the few who possessed the ability to decipher Kurt's expressions. It had taken him six months to come to the conclusion that "I'm fine," meant anything but, and his cold, superior glance meant he was silently hurting, but anything beyond those basics and he was as lost Kurt would be at Walmart.

"I saw you in the hallway," he says conversationally. Thought you looked upset. I like the outfit."

"I keep a spare in my locker in case of slushie emergencies," Kurt answered nonchalantly, his voice losing it's sharp edge.

"Or special occasion diva-outs?"

A small smile graced Kurt's features, and Artie counted it as a win for him. "Diva-out is an expression I designated to one Ms. Rachel Berry and I refuse to share anything with her. I prefer to call it a dramatic mental breakdown set to song."

"Because Rachel has _never _done that."

"No, Rachel specializes in melodramatic declarations of unrequited love through song."

"Because you have _never_ done that."

Kurt huffed and crossed his arms over his chest in mock annoyance. "What exactly is it that you wanted? Fashion advice? If so: ditch the Pee Wee Herman look." Artie looked down at his clothes: pink plaid and suspenders adorned with several assorted buttons.

"You're clearly upset, so I'm going to let that slide. I look _fly_."

Kurt seemed to be having an internal debate over what to contest first: the vocabulary or the outfit, and Artie decided to put him out of his misery.

"Why don't you come down here so we don't have to keep shouting back and forth," Artie said, gesturing at the set of stairs in between them.

Kurt hesitated momentarily, and Artie wondered if he'd acted too soon. Kurt was like a wild animal; you had to talk slowly and make no sudden movements if you wanted him to trust you. This was a comparison that Artie imagined would get him hit over the head with an expensive and heavy messenger bag if he ever voiced it. Artie's warm smile won out though, and Kurt sauntered towards him, hopping down the steps as though it was nothing to him; which, Artie supposed, it was.

They didn't say anything for a moment before Artie broke the silence. "So, Mellencamp? Mid-life crisis twenty years ahead of schedule?"

"Ten," the countertenor corrected automatically. At Artie's questioning glance he explained, "I plan on running my own fashion enterprise by 27 at the latest, retiring filthy rich before my 50th birthday and dying a handsome silver fox by the time I turn 60."

"You really think Rachel is going to let a single person miss out on McKinley High Glee Club's 50th reunion? She'll exhume you. You know she's got connections."

"I hear her Two Gay Dads are great friends with the local morticians."

"And the ones in New York, or Paris, or wherever it is you're going to be buried."

"Well then it's settled. I'll just have to be cremated. Probably for the best, I wouldn't want this much fabulous rotting away underground."

"You'll have to go in the buff though; can't have any of your clothes being burned."

"I'll arrange to have it done in those suspenders. Kill two birds with one stone."

"While you're subject-changing skills are quite impressive, you still haven't explained your identity crisis, Mama Rose."

Despite himself, Kurt raises his eyes in something that Artie is going to generously label 'impressed' and not 'shocked that anyone but him could ever get that reference.'

"My mom was a huge Gypsy fan. I choose not to over analyze the subtext behind that," he offers as way of explanation, and Kurt nods understandingly.

"Probably for the best. Avoid costly therapy a few years down the line."

"I saw it live once, in New York a few years ago. I think you performed that song better."

"Did you see it with Bernadette? Because honestly-"

"Not the point, Kurt."

"Right. Thanks." He paused a moment, studying Artie in a way that made him feel self-conscious, as if he was being sized up, judged. "'Cedes says I have issues taking compliments. Odd since I'm constantly fishing for them." He smiles a little, as if he was sharing a private joke, and for once it actually meets his eyes.

Artie thinks he might've passed.

With that the Kurt looks away, and Artie studies his hands. He's wearing worn-out leather gloves to save his palms from blisters as he wheels himself down the hallways.

"Sometimes, when my dad is watching football, or listening to neighbors talk about taking their kids to little league games he looks at me in this way- I know he's not disappointed _in me _per se, but it's like, I'm not what he expected, you know? And most of the time it's not that big of a deal, we're used to it, and life is what it is, there's no changing it. But every once in a while, I wish I could be that for him."

When he chances a glance up, he sees Kurt's staring at him, blue eyes piercing through him. Artie does his best to hold the gaze, unsure of what Kurt is searching for. He nods shortly, eyes slightly redder than they were just a moment ago. He looks away again, but speaks, his voice only cracking a little.

"I know my dad loves me, but seeing him with Finn, it's just so clear that I'm not what he _wants_. I guess I just wanted to try, because he tries so hard for me, and I thought maybe...maybe he'd like this better. It's stupid, and it didn't even work." He smiles ruefully, meeting Artie's eyes again. "Even when I did try, it wasn't good enough."

"I don't know about that, you made a fairly convincing Mellencamp."

Kurt laughs, the sound melodious and high, and Artie realizes he's never heard it before.

"When I was singing _Pink Houses_ you looked like I did when Mercedes switched out my new Lady Gaga CD for a Justin Beiber one. Actual physical pain."

Artie shrugs. "That's because I don't like Mellencamp. I like _you_." The other boy's bright eyes widened in surprise and Artie wondered how rare it was for him to hear those words. "You're awesome and hilarious, and if you wanted you could make Mellencamp just as fabulous as you are."

Kurt snorts at his word choice, and sits down on one of the auditorium seats so that they're at eye level.

"One day kids are going to be dressing up as you to impress their parents, mark my words. And until that day, you've still got me. And Rachel Berry's fashion to mock."

"Ah yes, the one terrifying constant in my life. Was she actually wearing wings in seventh period?"

"Something about Tinkerbell, I didn't ask any further." Kurt shudders exaggeratedly (or maybe not, it truly was hideous).

"Artie?" Kurt says quietly, his voice suddenly surprisingly small. The way his bangs fell over his eyes he looked much younger than his 16 years.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. You're a really good friend."

Artie smiles cockily. "I know. I'm the bomb." Kurt rolls his eyes affectionately.

"And sorry about your dad. If you ever need to talk or anything-"

"Eh. Next time it happens we'll just arrange for your dad and my dad to go bowling and bond over their son's faults while we have a Project Runway marathon and I'll point out every instance that one of those psycho designers uses suspenders to enhance a piece."

"And I'll try yet again to explain to you the difference between high fashion and raiding Urkel's wardrobe."

"Exactly. Now what do you say, shall we go burn some flannel?"

"Only if I get to toss that travesty you're calling a shirt in with the rest."

"This, my friend, is 100% cotton. I'll take that gasp as affirmation of your admiration and awe."

"I think I'm getting hives just thinking about this."

Artie laughed and wheeled himself back up the aisle of the auditorium, Kurt falling comfortably into step beside him with a small but sincere smile on his face. It's the same smile he wears a week later when Mr. Schue passes out sheet music for Gypsy and announces that he's holding open try-outs for _anyone_ who wants a solo for invitationals, shooting him a pointed look.

It's the same smile that Artie himself wears when he sees the sheet music for _All I Need is the Girl_ stuffed in his locker that afternoon, with a handwritten key change and a note about impressing Tina.

He performs it in a tweed jacket and striped suspenders.

Kurt doesn't talk to him for a week.


End file.
